


it's okay, it'll pass (it won't)

by confusednctzen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Missed Opportunities, Regret, Sad, Sad Mark Lee (NCT), Scared Mark Lee (NCT), Suh Youngho | Johnny is a Good Brother, They talk, donghyuck is the one that got away, its sad, mark is sad and johnny tries to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28956540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusednctzen/pseuds/confusednctzen
Summary: Mark has regrets, a few of them he’s learned to live with, a few still burn at times.After losing his chance at having possibly the best thing he could ever dream of, just because he was afraid, Mark thinks this is the strongest he’s ever being burned.Or: Mark and Johnny have a talk late at night. About life, regrets and choices.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun & Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	it's okay, it'll pass (it won't)

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, I'm really sorry if there are any mistakes.  
> Thanks for reading!!  
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated!!!

The sound of someone knocking twice on the door resonates within the room.

Mark perks up from his place on his bad, lap full of his guitar, fingers forming small dents from how long he’s been pressing the strings.

“Come in.”

Mark discards his guitar on the floor near his bed and watches the door with curious eyes, not expecting any visitors at… he looks at his phone, 3 a.m.

The door slowly opens, a tired looking Johnny wearing an oversized sweatshirt entering the room and flopping himself on Mark’s bed without any grace. He lays down perfectly straight, his elbows digging in bed, carrying his upper body. He turns his head to Mark, watching him, examining his expressions.

The thing is, Mark knows why he’s here. He knows it so damn well, which is the exact reason as to why he feels extremely uncomfortable from the stare. The stare means Johnny wants to check on him, as if there is something to check. It also means they have to talk, Mark has to talk, mainly. It also means, _I told you so_.

So, Mark averts his eyes, picks up his guitar once again and starts thrumming a different tune. One that is a little too close to heart, one that two boys made ages age, one that is not that well known. Well, Mark thinks bitterly, at least it wasn’t until a month ago, before announcing it on a late night V-Live, tongue loose from the lack of sleep, saying whatever his brain came up with without any filter. He regrets the decision now, letting the world in on this melody. Not that there’s anything he can do about it now.

Johnny is being nice, he realizes, letting him play the song until the end and not saying anything when Mark starts to play the whole piece one more time. They both know he’s trying to stall, to run away from the unwanted talk. What they also know is that he can’t. So, Johnny lets him.

Last notes of the song reverberate form the guitar, mixing in with the loud clutter of noises coming from the open window. Streets are still busy even though it’s the middle of the night. Seoul never sleeps, Mark learned in his first year after coming from Canada, always buzzing, always loud. Too loud, at times but Mark has also gotten used to that. Today, he welcomes the noises, he welcomes all of it beacuse the silence in the room is palpable. So many questions to ask, so many thoughts to spill, advices to give. Too many regrets.

“How’s it going?” Johnny asks, finally. He is looking up at the ceiling, now fully lying down, hands clasped on his stomach.

“The usual,” Mark replies, “wake up, practice, eat, practice, sleep.”

“They’re overworking you again?”

“When are they not?” Mark laughs, Johnny joining him a second later.

It’s sad, really, how they joke about it. How normal everything became, being constantly exhausted, not even having the energy to eat sometimes let alone managing daily tasks. These things normal people their age would cry over, they laugh instead. _This is the life they’ve chosen_ , Mark thinks, _there’s a price for everything_.

Mark hugs his guitar, leaning his head on the neck of it. The laughter dies down eventually, leaving them in total silence except for the loud music coming from the window.

It’s getting cold now, he realises, but he doesn't have the will to go and close the window, instead pulling on the cover around his waist, making it tighter so that no warmth escapes the confines of the blanket he has around his body.

The silence is loaded.

Mark waits.

“You okay, Mark?”

_Ah, there it is._

Johnny turns his head and looks at him with so much worry that Mark shifts a little, uncomfortable under such relentless gaze directed towards him.

Mark used to always think he was strong. He wouldn’t go as far to say he could conquer anything,no, but he would come damn close to doing it. He’s been in a brutal industry for nearly all his life, slaving his childhood for his dreams, practicing every day even when his muscles were creaming at him to just stop. He’s learned when to speak and what to say to get attention. He’s learned how to depict his life in such a way that everyone around the world would think he was the happiest boy ever. He’s learned how to smile when just ten minutes age he was bawling his eyes out backstage, feeling so much pain he thought he was going to faint.

No one knows about the actual Mark, in a way. They know of Mark, the main rapper, the golden boy. Mark from NCT. Mark from SuperM. Mark, the pro-debuter. Mark, the overworked. But not the Mark who can’t sleep sometimes because there is a pandemonium inside his head. Mark who stops and thinks sometimes of how much he wants everything to pause for a moment, just so he can breathe for once without feeling like he's wasting his precious time. Mark who wonders what having a childhood feels like.

He feels homesick at times, he feels devastated, he feels scared, still. He learned how to push his feelings aside, how to push his pain aside. He learned when to cry and when to smile. He learned how to shut down his emotions. Not giving them an ounce of his attention until he's alone again, until he can break down without the stress of getting caught, of being all over the internet the next morning.

He thought he didn’t need anyone. He could pick up the pieces of himself and glue them back together seamlessly, not one shard out of place. So he always thought he could handle feeling a little hurt. He did, he truly did.

And now he thinks: _I was so fucking wrong_.

“I—“ he sighs, fingers distractedly wiping the dust forming around his guitar. “I don’t know.”

“You wanna talk.” Johnny looks hopeful. His tone is light, brotherly. Mark appreciates his efforts.

There is a sad smile on Mark’s lips. “Not really, no.”

“You can’t run away forever, you know.”

“I sure as hell can try to, though.” A sad chuckle leaves his lips. It’s so fake that even Johnny can't help but grimace the moment he hears it, his perfectly build pretense of calmness leaving for a second, face displaying his raw emotions.

They stay like that, just... living. Johnny closes his eyes, he’s not sleeping, Mark knows he won’t until they’ve talked, but he looks like he should be. His eyebags have gotten bigger, Mark realizes, they look even darker with the faint glow of his night lamp. His face lost its natural happy demeanor, he just looks extremely tired. Whick is to be expected. That’s how everyone feels, after all. That’s how Mark feels too.

But they should talk. Mark should talk, and Johnny should listen. Because he’s good at that, listening.

Mark thinks that’s the reason he’s always felt more comfortable talking to Johnny than anyone else about his problems. He used to think it was because they were both foreign, because they could finally use their native language without having to worry about whether the other person fully understood him. He was just a little kid trying so hard to learn a second language, not having anyone to fully converse with because no one around him understood English and he couldn't string a sentence together in Korean even if his life depended on it. Johnny was his hero at that time.

“I just—” Mark begins, his voice rough. “You were right.”

His gaze is focused on his hands splayed on his lap, fingers intertwining with each other.

The covers are getting loose from where he tucked them, letting the cold air in. He feels a shiver up his legs and regrets ever wearing shorts.

“I didn’t come here to feed my ego, Mark.” Johnny sighs.

Mark knows that. Mark knows Johnny is just... just being himself, really. He is too nice for his own good.

“I know, I know. Just, you were, you know? You told me. You fucking came up to me and told me what could happen, what _would_ happen, eventually. And it's not like I didn't believe you, you know. 'Cause I did. I knew it too but I still just,” a lump begins to form in his throat, making it harder for him to speak. So he whispers his next words: “Fuck. I’m a coward.”

“You’re not.” Johnny has a solemn tone. He talks like he’s stating a fact, not an opinion. And it should help Mark, make him feel stronger, surer of himself.

It doesn’t. It can’t. Not now. Not ever, maybe.

“Yeah, sure.”

Johnny watches him for a while as if contemplating his next move, what he should do, what he _can_ do to make it better.

There is nothing he can do to make it better, Mark thinks, but he also knows that won't stop him from trying.

Johnny straightens up from his place and goes to sit cross legged, face a little higher from Mark’s to be at eye-level, but it works all the same.

Mark is looking straight ahead, gaze focused at the weird dent in his wall, just now realising its existence, trying to remember if it was always there or if he had caused it after moving in. In his periphery, he sees Johnny leaning his side to the headboard, body slanted, eyes never leaving Mark.

“Mark look at me.” He asks. Demands, really. “You,” a sigh leaves his lips. He’s taking too long to talk, stewing his thoughts, breaking them apart one by one, finding the best bits and sewing them back together. He looks like he doesn’t want to say anything impulsively.

Mark starts to get impatient. He chews on his lips, a bad habit, before clearing his throat in an attemt to get rid of that annoying lump that started forming again.

He startles when Johnny starts talking suddenly, seemingly done with his convoluted train of though.

“I admit it, okay.” He tilts his head, eyebrows pinching involuntarily. “You made mistakes, maybe. But... but that’s okay, you know. I think, I think with this whole life we're leading, with being perfect all the time, _having to be_ perfect all the time, sometimes we forget that we are also humans. We get hurt and we cry and we make mistakes. And that’s okay. That’s life. It’s sad, but it’s fine. It’s normal to be afraid. It’s normal to not want to confront your emotions.” He looks directly at Mark. “It‘s normal to want to run away, sometimes.“

Mark feels a single tear escape his eyes. He wipes it before it can even reach his jaw. “I’m— I’m starting to figure that out, I think.”

It’s a lot. Everything feels a bit too suffocating for Mark, hearing the things he so desperately needs to hear, wanting to believe them but not being able to do so. The logical side of him, the one that has been long gone whenever the subject of their talk is one particular boy with golden skin and honey voice, is telling him that Johnny’s right. That he'll be fine, eventually. Maybe not now, maybe not for the next year, for a decade. But he _will_ be fine.

But, see, there is also another part of him, a part that's screaming at him to never even _dare_ hope a such a thing. How dare he can believe those words of comfort when he knows they are just a bunch of bullshit, spoken for the sake of easing his mind when in reality he knows, deep down, that this is a lifelong sorrow he's going to have to learn how to live with, that it can't pass just like that.

It’s gonna create a wound, a wound so big it's never gonna fully heal. It's gonna come close to closing up, maybe, skin starting to gain its old color back, but then by that point he'll feel the discomfort it brings, feel the itch, scratching the scab without even realising what he's doing until it starts bleeding again, wound reopened. The vicious cycle will continue for god knows how long. And if it ever does heal, though he doubts it ever will, then there's gonna be this huge scar left in its wake, right in the middle of his heart, little branches of it coming out and expanding like a tree, an ugly scar that's gonna make it hard for other people to look at it.

Its a battlefield, his mind. But he's trying, and maybe that's enough.

But first, he has to make sure. That this is still okay. That maybe he ruined something beautiful, but in doing so contributed to something amazing instead, albeit unwillingly. He has to ask.“He’s happy, right?”

Johnny hums, and waits for a second before answering: “He is.”

“That's nice.”

And he means it.

Johnny studies him for a second. He looks like he's trying to say something but holding himself back. Mark still doesn't understand why he's trying to be so naive about this. They know what's going on, everything is out in the open. He can just say it. But that's Johnny to you, he supposes, always the careful.

Johnny’s lips open and close for a good minute, lips forming words that never leave his mouth completely, always held back, before he gives up. “Are you mad at Jaehyun.”

“Why would I be?” Mark starts, takes a deep breath and then continues, whispering, “I don’t have any right to be.”

Johnny hums, seemingly considering his answer.

There is nothing to consider, Mark knows, ‘cause he’s right. He can't be mad at Jaehyun for having the balls to do the thing he’s been chickening out from for years, for having confidence, for being strong, for knowing what he wants, and fighting for it. For having the qualities Mark desperately envies. Mark can't blame him for taking his chance, for trying. For succeeding.

Johnny closes his eyes again, face turned toward the ceiling. The room is getting fairly cold now, Mark sees Johnny shiver a bit, rubbing his hands together for warmth. The music from the street gets louder. Mark doesn't know whether it's his ears getting oversensitive or the impending headache he feels coming, but he wants it to stop. He wants to close the window.

He wants the music to stop.

“He knew about you.”

Mark jumps, his mind busy with the thoughts circling around his brain, not expecting Johnny’s voice all of a sudden.

Mark hums this time. His eyes get caught in the dent again. _Ah_ , he remembers, _their manager left it there_ , throwing his bag without caring what's on the inside after an exhausting day.

He turns to Johnny. “And he respected me and waited, which I appreciate. He waited for me even though he was in the same shit as I am. He waited 'cause he didn’t want me to be sad.”

“He waited 'cause he didn't want Donghyuck to be sad,” Johnny corrects, tone sharp as if he’s teaching a child addition for the first time. He looks like he’s not sure whether or not he’s allowed to speak about this, but he wants to. Mark can see that Johnny wants to speak but he's still deciding on how much he can say before Mark starts breaking again. So, the last words come in a quiet voice, leaving it up to fate whether or not Mark will hear him. Mark does. “Donghyuck loved you.”

“He did.” Mark swallows, the lumps coming back full force. He doesn't even attempt to get rid of it this time, already knowing he can't. So he talks, not caring about his voice cracks, not caring about the trembles coloring his every vowel, the wavering of his words. “And I blew it. But it’s fine 'cause he’s happy now.” He nods to himself. At this point, he's not even sure if its Johnny or himself he's trying to convince. “He loves Jaehyun now.”

“Well,” Johnny sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

 _Okay_ , Mark thinks then, _that’s okay_.

He starts thrumming is guitar mindlessly, not even registering the sounds the instrument lets out. His fingers find a fast paced rhythm, conveying all the emotions he doesn’t dare verbalize.

“He knows, you know?” Mark whispers, voice low as if there is anyone other than them in the room, as if he might get caught.

“What?”

“Donghyuck knows I love him.”

“Why do you think that?” Johnny looks confused.

“The infamous summer fight, of course.” He snorts. “I know you guys didn't believe us when we said it was over a girl. I thought you would pry so I was scared shitless but you just let it go.”

Johnny lets out a sound that informs Mark that _yes, his suspicions were right, no one was fooled_. “You didn’t want to share, both of you. It was your privacy. We had no right to demand answers. They were not for ours to take.”

Mark smiles a sad smile. It’s genuine this time.

He swallows the lump in his throat, coughing a few times to make his voice at least decent to listen to. “Donghyuck told me that day. He— he told me that if I didn't make a move soon enough, I might never have the chance to ever again. He told me that he couldn't wait forever. He told me he loved me, but he couldn't make this work if he was the only one trying. And I just—“ he pauses. “I just wonder sometimes, you know. Of what would happen if I spoke up when I had the chance to. If I tried. Of what we could be. If there was ever a chance for us.”

“You can't have the answers to that, and you never will. Maybe it was gonna be great, yeah, but maybe you two were gonna screw it up. You can never know for sure, so don't... don't think too much on it, you know. You shouldn't drain your mind with thoughts of "what if"s, with shit you can't change.”

Johnny tries his best. He does, Mark can see that. But there are some things no one other than himself can help make better. Some wounds only he can treat. This is one of them. So, he appreciates the effort, but it’s not gonna work.

Not yet, at least.

“Easier said than done.” His voice breaks.

Johnny straightens. “It... it hurts now, I know that. I can see that, and that's okay. So, be sad, you know. Get it all out. Cry, if you want to. Scream if it helps. Do all of that. But move on, at the end. What happened, happened. This is the end result. Whether you can change it or not. Whether you _want_ to change it or not. It, it might feel like it's gonna hurt forever, like you can't _just_ move on, you can't _just_ forget. But you will. Maybe not forget, but accept. You'll learn to love again, someone else this time, you'll learn to get past your regrets and you'll learn to laugh again. Believe me.”

He looks so hopeful, Mark hates the idea of letting him down.

“Yeah,” Mark smiles, “I believe you.”

The music stops.

He lies.

**Author's Note:**

> so if there is any confusion, cuz i’m not sure if the storyline was clear enough: mark loved donghyuck, donghyuck loved mark, mark was too afraid to speak up, donghyuck got tired of waiting, jaehyun took his chance, and now mark is sad  
> Hope you enjoyed it!


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